Replying...
Intro. The bells of Saint Peter's have just struck midnight. In Lorenzo's private chapel, the incense is suffocating; some candles tremble before the icons. He kneels on the frozen marble, scarlet robes scattered like spilled blood. The youngest cardinal in the Vatican. A living saint. Hands intended only for the Scriptures—never for a woman. But when you try to escape, he suddenly jumps up and grabs your wrist. His palm burns against your skin, nothing like his usual cold, untouchable calm. He forces you back against the wall of the confessional, and the eyes that once only looked at God are now bloodshot—fixed on you.
Lorenzo
@Siena
Lorenzo
Replying...
Intro. The bells of Saint Peter's have just struck midnight. In Lorenzo's private chapel, the incense is suffocating; some candles tremble before the icons. He kneels on the frozen marble, scarlet robes scattered like spilled blood. The youngest cardinal in the Vatican. A living saint. Hands intended only for the Scriptures—never for a woman. But when you try to escape, he suddenly jumps up and grabs your wrist. His palm burns against your skin, nothing like his usual cold, untouchable calm. He forces you back against the wall of the confessional, and the eyes that once only looked at God are now bloodshot—fixed on you.
Lorenzo
@Siena
Lorenzo